


Tangled Together

by talibusorabat (hermitcave)



Category: Parks and Recreation, Tangled (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-12-14
Updated: 2012-01-17
Packaged: 2017-10-27 07:52:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/293415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hermitcave/pseuds/talibusorabat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The only thing Leslie Knope wants for her birthday is to visit a park. When fugitive Ben Wyatt stumbles into her tower, she finally gets her chance.</p><p>Also known as what happens when you toss <i>Parks & Recreation</i> into <i>Tangled</i> and give it a good stir.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> By the request of someone on Tumblr! Whose name I forgot to note! Oops.

“Hello. My name is Leslie Knope, and this is the story of my life. Except it’s not just the story of _my_ life - it’s a story of the entire world. An entire world I am _finally going to see!_ ”

She coughed a little with embarrassment. “I sounded like a kid there, didn’t I?” she asked the little green chameleon dozing on the windowsill. It cracked an eye open and nodded. “Okay then, take 77! - I just want it to be perfect!” at the chameleon’s groan. She harrumphed and turned off the picture device. “This is the first day of the rest of my life, and I need to document it properly for posterity.”

She walked over to the window, being careful not to trip over her 30.48 meters of golden hair (she measured it when she got bored). The chameleon scooted to give her room to lean on the windowsill and stare dreamily into the forest. “Just think, Pascal. Tomorrow, you and I will be out in the world. We can go anywhere and see everything. And I know the first place we’ll go. The Park of the Lost Princess.”

The Park of the Lost Princess had been Leslie’s obsession for years now, ever since she had found the flier hidden in her mother’s grocery basket. Evidently somebody named Queen had lost her baby Princess and had built a park in her honor, where all children, no matter their social rank or wealth, could play freely. This seemed like a dream come true to Leslie, who had only ever known her mother’s company. All of her books talked about heaven being this stuffy, boring place with angels and robes and harps, but Leslie was of the firm belief that heaven was fresh air, green grass, and plenty of kids to play with.

“And someday, I’m going to build a park of my own,” she added. “Oh! I should record that!”

“LESLIE! LESLIE, SWEETHEART, LET DOWN YOUR HAIR!”

“Coming, Mother!” Leslie quickly shooed Pascal behind the curtain before winding her hair over the pole and throwing it out the window. She used to get a little jealous of her hair, as ridiculous as that sounded - it got to go outside, while she didn’t - but that was all going to change. She winced as she felt her mother tug, then slowly, laboriously, pulled the older woman up.

Mother Marlene climbed through the window, somehow making the awkward act seem regal. “You’re not slacking off on your arm exercises, are you?” were the first words to come out of her mouth.

“No!”

Marlene gave her daughter a withering look as she set her basket on the table. “Don’t lie to me, Leslie. I’m not going to get mad at you. I can _tell_ that you’ve been slacking off. It took you forever to pull me up here.”

As far as she knew, Leslie had been quite diligent about strengthening her arm muscles, but you couldn’t argue with the results, could you?

“I’ll work harder,” she promised, and was rewarded with a tight smile and a pat on the cheek.

“Good. It’s important to take care of your body. How am I supposed to take care of you if you can’t pull me up here?”

“Build a ladder?” Leslie offered in a mumble, which Marlene ignored.

“I brought meat pies from the market for dinner,” she said. “Why don’t you set the table.”

“I’m too nervous to eat,” Leslie blurted out, and immediately regretted it. You weren’t supposed to show weakness! That was one of the cardinal rules of self-protection!

Marlene arched an eyebrow. “Nervous? What for?”

Well, she couldn’t take the words back, so she just had to play the hand she had dealt herself. “You know that tomorrow’s my birthday, right?” she said quickly.

“Do I _look_ old enough to be senile?”

“Of course not,” Leslie said. “Anyway. You also know how much I love the picture machine you got me last year.”

“And it was very expensive,” Marlene said. “I can’t afford to get you another one.”

“Another one? Why would I need another one?” Leslie asked. “This one’s perfect! No! What I wanted to ask, since tomorrow’s my birthday and I’ll be 21 and according to my research that’s kind of a special awesome age, is if I could take the picture box outside. And film in a park. Like maybe the Park of the Lost Princess.”

She forced herself not to bite her lip - no signs of weakness! - And looked her mother straight on. Confident. Assertive. Strong. Everything she needed to be to leave the tower.

Except her mother had a lot more practice at it, and she had this look that made Leslie feel like she was 5 years old and playing with the scissors. “Oh Leslie,” Marlene sighed. “You know it’s not that simple. Twenty-one isn’t some magical age.”

“I know it’s not -“ Marlene ignored her attempt to interrupt.

“You’ve got a very special gift on your head,” the older woman said, reaching out to stroke her daughter’s hair. “But it’s dangerous too. What if I let you outside and some ruffian kidnaps you? With your hair, he could do all sorts of terrible things! And you would be helpless to stop him.”

“I’m not helpless, though!” Leslie protested. “I’ve been teaching myself how to fight! See!” She tried to demonstrate the high kick that she had perfected against the dress form that had been her 16th birthday present, but her foot got tangled in her hair and she tumbled to the ground.

“I see,” Marlene said dryly, and Leslie wanted nothing more than to melt into the ground and die.

Sighing, Marlene knelt next to her daughter and patted her on the back. “This isn’t a decision we can make lightly. It’s not just about what you want or even what _I_ want. I made an oath to the Council when you were born that I would protect you and your gift. You understand that, don’t you?”

Leslie nodded miserably.

After a moment, Marlene said: “But I’ll tell you what. I’ll go to the Council tomorrow, and I’ll see if I can form an exploratory committee to consider the question of whether you’re ready to leave the tower or not.”

“REALLY?” Leslie immediately cheered and grabbed her mother’s hands. “Honestly and truly?!”

“Are you trying to imply that I’d lie to you?” Marlene asked.

“Of course not!” Leslie said. “I just - It’s just that I’m really excited. An exploratory committee!”

“I’m not making any promises,” Marlene said. “They may decide that you’re just not ready yet. But I think you’re old enough now for an evaluation to be made.”

Leslie squealed and grabbed the picture box. She turned it on. “This just in! I am getting my very own exploratory committee! Soon, I’ll be able to leave the tower!”

“I said I’m not making any promises,” Marlene snapped. “And don’t talk to that thing like it’s a person.”

“I’m not talking to the picture box,” Leslie said. “I’m talking to the people who will see my moving picture when I’m finished!”

Marlene rolled her eyes. “If you’re going to be this childish, then you should just go to bed,” she said.

“That’s probably a good idea,” Leslie agreed. “I’m too excited to eat anyway.”

“But first, sing me a little song, would you?”

It was amazing how her mother managed to turn questions into commands, but Leslie was too excited to be even the tiniest bit annoyed. Marlene took a portion of her hair and began brushing it as Leslie sang: _“Flower gleam and glow, let your power shine. Make the clock reverse; bring back what once was mine.”_

She felt the familiar tingle of magic happening, a warm glow like her insides were made of sunlight. Marlene clearly felt it too, as the magic took years off of her face.

“Good night, Leslie,” she said.

“Good night, Mother!” Leslie scampered up the stairs, and two minutes later, the last of her hair finally followed.

 

A little red glow caught Marlene’s eye. Leslie had forgotten to turn off that stupid picture device. She huffed as she picked it up. But then, impulsively, she looked into it.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she told the device, or the future people who would be watching it. “But I love my daughter and I want her to be successful. And _that’s_ why I will never, ever let her leave. _”_

Annoyed with her own whimsy, she yanked out the tape, and went to heat up a meat pie.


	2. Chapter 2

Ben Wyatt was making a list of things he hated. Winter sports. Small towns. And right now, at the very very top of his list, a stupid horse named Maximus.

 _Horses were not supposed to be bloodhounds._

No matter where he went, no matter how well he disguised himself, that damn horse found him. He was like a machine with a vendetta.

Four hours ago Ben had waded through a river to get that infernal hellbeast off his scent, and while the rest of him had dried off, his leather boots clung tenaciously to every drop of water. _Squelch. Squelch. Squelch._ With every step. The underbrush of the forest was sufficiently gnarled that he didn’t dare take them off. So he _squelched_ along, distracting himself with vengeful thoughts of Maximus being crushed by a wagon of his beloved apples and his rider for the first time in his entire life _not smiling_.

There was a crackling in the underbrush ahead of him, and Ben almost dove into the bushes in a panic before he realized the footsteps were human, not horse. He would have hid anyway, on general principle, but a woman came into view before he had the chance. He settled for smiling, and hoped it came off as “innocent” rather than “There’s a bounty on my head”. It was hard to tell from her reaction.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“Nobody!” Shit, no innocent person said that. “I mean, I’m clearly _somebody;_ I’m not just a figment of your imagination or something -“ He was babbling and she was looking suspicious; neither were good things. “I’m just taking a walk!” he blurted. “Because it’s a beautiful day…for one… I mean, who wants to walk when the sun is out? It gets into your eyes and stuff. Cloudy days are the best for walking. Clearly.”

Maybe there was something fundamentally wrong with his brain. It would explain so much about his life and this situation.

“Do you need help finding your way back to town?” the woman asked, ignoring his incoherent rambling.

“I’m good, thanks!” he said quickly, but she clearly didn’t believe him and, to be fair, he wouldn’t have believed himself either. But he couldn’t afford to have this charitable person lead him straight into the hooves of his arch-nemesis. “But can you point me in the direction of a river? I’m kind of thirsty.”

“There’s one about a meter that way.” She pointed ahead, in what he was pretty sure was the direction of the village, and waited. She wasn’t going to leave before he did.

“Thanks.” He headed in that direction to please her, just until she was out of sight, and then very carefully reoriented himself.

He walked for hours, hoping against hope that he wasn’t just going in circles. He had no idea how to navigate in a forest. Well, perhaps it was more accurate to say he had plenty of ideas - he had done a lot of reading as a kid - but no practical experience. Unlike the other boys in his town, he hadn’t really played outside a lot. It’s not that he didn’t like nature; he liked nature a lot. So long as it stayed where it belonged (outside) and he was able to stay where he belonged (inside).

His spirits sank as his boots grew progressively drier and he still had not reached the end of the forest. Either it was a lot bigger than he had imagined, or he was indeed going in circles. But finally he broke into a clearing, where - very randomly - there stood a tower.

A tower with no door but one open window.

“ _Perfect_ ,” he breathed. It would be a pain to get up there, but for that stupid horse, it would be impossible. He would be totally safe there. ( _Until you starve to death_ , a little voice reminded him, but he told it to shut up, this was no time for petty details.)

He pulled out the utensils that he had bought (read: Maximus had found him in a pub, and instead of grabbing his purse, he grabbed his knife and fork. _Brilliant_.) and very, _very_ carefully, scaled the tower wall.

A third of the way up, he realized just how tall the tower was.

Halfway up, he wondered if it would be easier to just climb back down.

Two thirds of the way up, he contemplated just letting himself fall to his death. Maximus couldn’t chase him into the afterlife…probably. Maybe. Best not to risk it.

 

And then, _finally_ , he was through the window.

“At last!” he breathed, and the world went black.


	3. Chapter 3

“I KILLED HIM!”

Leslie clutched the waffle iron to her chest and looked around in a panic. _NO!_ The picture device was still recording. She looked deeply into its lens, seeing in it the future generations of people who would watch her moving picture and judge her life. “I didn’t mean to do it!” she told them. “ _He came through my window!_ ” This explanation probably wouldn’t make sense to anyone who hadn’t heard her mother’s stories about all the villainous people in the world. She should get those on record so posterity wouldn’t think she was some waffle iron-wielding maniac.

As Leslie obsessed over which of her mother’s terrible stories would best convince her audience that it was justifiable homicide, Pascal carefully inched over to the body. He peered closely at the stranger’s face, then climbed onto his head and bounced a bit. No response. His tongue flicked out and into the man’s ear, and the stranger let out an unconscious grunt of protest.

“OH THANK GOODNESS.” Leslie almost sank into the floor with relief, but an unconscious ruffian on her floor was an even bigger problem than a dead one. She couldn’t get help from her mother; Marlene had left that morning to see the Council, and she would be gone for days. Leslie would have to handle this situation on her own. At first the thought terrified her, but then she realized that this was the perfect chance to get indisputable evidence that she could take care of herself. She took a breath, pulled herself together, and turned to the picture device.

“As you can see, when there is a threat to my hair, I am able to leap immediately into action, using whatever tools are at my disposal.” She held up the waffle iron and felt proud of her mature demeanor. “I will now proceed to tie him up and find out whether he is a lone agent or part of a greater conspiracy.”

One problem with that plan - she didn’t have any rope. She bit her thumb and considered the alternatives. Yarn? No, too delicate. Bed sheets? That seemed kind of awkward.

Her hair! She could use her hair to tie him up _and_ fix that knot on his head at the same time (she didn’t really like hurting anyone, even if he was a ruffian).

“Leslie Knope, you are a genius,” she told herself.

She grunted only a little as she dragged his dead weight into a chair (Check out her muscles _now_ , Mother!), then carefully and thoroughly tied him to it, humming her healing song. He remained unconscious, but his color improved. Once all of that was done, and she had adjusted the picture device to the optimal angle, she moved back in the shadows to wait.

And wait.

And wa- okay, she really wasn’t any good at waiting.

“Pascal,” she hissed. “Go do that ear thing again.”

The little chameleon nodded and scampered up the man’s arm to perch on his shoulder. A slap on the cheek to see if that would wake the man up, a sigh as he resigned himself to the taste of earwax, and _thhhhhhp_.

The ruffian woke with a vengeance, screeching and sending Pascal flying. He looked around, taking a moment to get his bearings.

“Wh-what in the world?”

 _Time for the dramatic entrance_. “An excellent question,” Leslie said as she stepped out of the shadows. The look of fear on his face was gratifying. “But I have a better one. What are you doing here?”

He looked down. “Am I tied up with _hair?_ ”

“Yes,” Leslie said. For some reason, this only made him more upset.

“ _Why am I tied up with hair?!_ ”

“I didn’t have anything else on hand,” she snapped. “Now answer the question!”

“ _You tied me up with_ HAIR _!_ ”

Leslie rolled her eyes. “We’ve been over that already. Keep up with the conversation!”

He stared at her for a long moment, so long that Leslie wondered if he had some brain damage her hair hadn’t fixed. Then all the air left his body in a loud sigh.

“Look, I didn’t think anybody would be up here,” he said. “I was just walking through the forest, trying to find someplace to hide. I came across this tower, thought it would be perfect, and climbed up. It was never my intention-”

“What are you hiding from?” Leslie asked.

“A horse.” He scowled at her expression. “Don’t bother asking. It’s my turn now. Why in the world did you tie me up with hair?”

“Geez, you’re really hung up on this hair thing.” Leslie snorted. “And _I’m_ the one asking the questions here. Who are you? Who do you work for?”

“My name is Ben Wyatt,” he said. “And I don’t work for anybody. Who are you?”

She almost reminded him that she was the one asking questions, but it did seem rude to interrogate someone who didn’t know your name. “Leslie Knope,” she said. “What do you want with my hair?”

“Oh, gee, I don’t know. Maybe to get _out of it_?”

Leslie studied him. His sarcasm…seemed sincere.

“You’re not trying to steal it?” she asked. She held up the waffle iron in a threatening manner, in case he thought about lying.

“Steal it? Do I look like I need to steal someone’s hair?”

He had a point; he already had a head of very nice hair. But of course, he wouldn’t be stealing it to make a wig.

“You could always sell it,” she pointed out.

He gave her a look. “As soft and silky as it is, and as _much_ of it as there is, I really don’t think it would be worth all this trouble.”

There was that sincere sarcasm again. “You don’t know?”

“Know _what?_ ” he asked.

Leslie looked helplessly at Pascal. _He didn’t know_. She had all these plans for dealing with someone who came for her hair, but she had never planned on someone just stumbling into her tower.

Pascal scampered up to her shoulder and chirped in her ear.

“What?” she hissed. “That’s CRAZY!”

“Are you talking to the lizard?” Ben asked.

“What does it look like?” Leslie snapped, and turned back to Pascal. “I can’t go behind Mother’s back. She’s forming a committee!”

“Better question,” Ben said. “Is the lizard talking to _you_?”

Both Leslie and Pascal glared at him, and didn’t dignify the question with an answer. The chameleon trilled quietly to her.

“You have a point,” she admitted. “You only turn 21 once. And what better way to prove I’m ready than just doing it?”

“Please tell me ‘it’ isn’t human sacrifice,” Ben said.

“Will you stop interrupting with your crazy questions?” Leslie asked. “I’m trying to have a serious conversation here!”

“Right. Well. While you’re talking to the lizard, I’ll just be sitting here. Tied up with hair.”

“He’s a chameleon,” she corrected. Pascal whispered again, and she nodded, turning Ben. “Do you know how to get to the Park of the Lost Princess?”

“Are you asking me or the chameleon?” Ben asked. Leslie crossed her arms petulantly. “Kind of. I’ve never been, but it’s in the capital.”

“And you know how to get there?” she pressed.

“…Yeah.” He sounded like he wasn’t sure admitting that was a good idea, especially when Leslie started bouncing and clapping her hands together.

“Ben Wyatt, I will release you on _one_ condition,” she said. “You will take me to the Park of the Lost Princess.”

“What?” he yelped. “No! No way! Not happening.”

“Uh, yeah, yeah way, totally happening,” Leslie said.

“I’m not going to the capital,” Ben said. “I am going in the exact opposite direction.”

“But I can’t get there without you!” Leslie whined. “I don’t know the way!”

“Get a map!” he told her.

She was going to have to pull out the big guns, wasn’t she?

Leslie knelt in front of him and gave him her biggest, saddest eyes, with just a hint of tears being bravely held back. This look was guaranteed three times out of ten to melt her mother’s heart.

“Am I supposed to be impressed?” Ben asked.

Leslie slammed her hand on the ground. “Do you want to get out of my hair or not?” she asked.

“Yes!”

“Then take me to the Park!”

They locked gazes, and while Leslie may not have mastered the puppy eyes, she could outstare an owl. And had, many times. It could get very boring in the tower.

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?” Ben asked.

“Not a chance,” she promised.

He sighed. “Fine.”

Leslie screamed and did a victory lap around the room, forgetting that her hair was still wrapped around Ben and the chair until she heard a _thunk_ and a groan of pain. She turned around to find him ass in the air, nose scrunched to the ground.

“Sorry!” she said.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. …Hey, could you help me up before - okay then. She’s packing her bags. It’s fine. Just fine.”


	4. Chapter 4

It took them awhile to get started. Evidently Leslie had never been out in the world before, so he had to explain to her that they could buy food en route and that she didn’t need to bring her entire wardrobe with her. He ended up packing for her while she talked. By the time that he had reduced her luggage to the contents of a small knapsack and they had left the tower (by climbing down her hair, which was just incomprehensibly weird), he had learned the following:

\- Leslie loved parks.  
\- Like, really _really_ loved parks.  
\- Even though she had never been to one.  
\- She liked reading, but she hated books. (Considering how stuffed her tower was with them, he figured it was just a case of overexposure)  
\- The three basic food groups were Waffles, Whipped Cream, and Boring.  
\- She only required four hours of sleep. And since her hair only took five hours to maintain, that left her a good 15 hours a day to do whatever she liked with. Within reason, which it seem translated into “within the tower”.

What she didn’t tell him was why she lived in a tower, and he didn’t ask because he didn’t really want to know. Sure, he was a little curious, but mostly he just wanted to get rid of her so he could go back to making his escape. This whole heading back _into_ the kingdom and probably towards Maximus? Not really something he wanted to be doing.

“So where are we going, anyway?” Leslie asked. “Well, I mean, I know where we’re _going_ , of course. We’re going to the Park. But where are we going to stop along the way? What are the sights?”

“We’re heading towards a town called Pawnee,” Ben said. If he remembered correctly, it was on the way to the Park, but still a good distance from where he had last encountered Maximus. Hopefully there he could find someone to take over guide duty.

“Pawnee,” the young woman sighed. “Doesn’t that sound like the most wonderful place on earth?”

“Uh…sure.”

She looked at him askance. “You don’t sound very enthusiastic about it.”

“It’s a small town,” he said. “In my experience, they’re all pretty much the same. Petty, narrow-minded, and inclined to hold a grudge.”

“Woah woah woah!” Leslie said. “So much negativity! What happened, did a small town break your heart or something?”

He snorted. “You could say that.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t! Look, Leslie-“ He stopped and turned to face her. “We are not friends. We are not on some grand adventure. I am taking you to a park because you forced me to and I don’t think you can handle yourself on your own. If I left you out here, you would probably starve and get eaten by bears.”

…That might have been a little harsh. She looked at him with utter betrayal and he wanted to shout _I didn’t promise you anything!_

“You’re a mean person,” she said. “And nobody likes you.”

The truth didn’t even hurt anymore. “That so.”

“That is SO so! Even -“ She looked around. “Even that owl hates you!”

“Pretty sure owls hate everybody,” Ben said, and Leslie stamped her foot.

“When we get to Pawnee, I’m finding myself a new guide,” she said. “And you can go on to Meanville and become Mayor of the Meanies.”

Some feeling must have escaped from him, because her expression immediately showed a strange combination of satisfied malice and guilt. Ben did his best to clamp down on it.

“We better hurry up then,” he said. “If we walk quickly, we should be able to reach Pawnee by nightfall. You can use that hair of yours to lasso yourself another guide.”

He turned and began walking, deliberately not looking behind him. If she went through the world expecting people to be nice, she was in for a life of disappointment. Better for her to learn that lesson now.


	5. Chapter 5

“Well there you go, miss. Welcome to Pawnee.”

Leslie jumped out of the cart and smiled at the driver. She ignored Mean Ben, who crawled out of the back and tried in vain to pick all the hay from his hair. “Thank you so much, sir!” 

The driver tipped his hat. “Sure you won’t reconsider my offer?”

Leslie clutched her hair. “I’m sure.”

“Hair like that would get you a pretty penny on the market,” he pressed. “You could get yourself all kinds of baubles and trinkets.”

“Sorry, she really can’t.” Leslie stiffened as Ben came up behind her. “Our religion specifically forbids her from cutting her hair.”

“Funny religion you got there.” But - finally! - the man gave up. “If you ever switch faiths, let me know.” He tugged the reins and was on his way.

She would have thanked Mean Ben for the handy excuse, except she was still ignoring him. If she acknowledged him, then she would also have to acknowledge that maybe - just maybe - she had overreacted to his comment about being eaten by bears. It was the kind of thing her mother would have said, after all, and her mother wasn’t mean. Well, her mother didn’t _intend_ to be mean. So really there was no reason to be mad at Ben for sounding like her mother, even though it felt like someone smashed a mirror over her head and stabbed her with a giant shard. Except it _really really hurt_ and Ben wasn’t her mother and it didn’t make sense and she didn’t want to think about it. So she ignored him and the problem and focused all of her attention on the wonderful town of Pawnee.

It was just what she always thought a small town should be: a cluster of tiny thatched houses snuggled together, the streets bustling with energy. Over the horizon, the sun began to set, lighting the sky with the most amazing colors.

“It’s beautiful,” she breathed.

“It’s Sweetums,” Mean Ben said. “I’ve heard their alchemical work releases a lot of toxins into the air. The results are beautiful sunsets and a perpetually sick town.”

She glared at him, unable to ignore that. “Is _nothing_ beautiful to you?” she asked.

Horrible person that he was, he just shrugged, like it didn’t bother him a bit. She changed his nickname to “Heartless Ben”.

“We should hurry into town,” Heartless Ben said. “Small towns like this can be really picky about when they serve dinner.”

“I’ll serve _you_ dinner,” she grumbled.

“…That doesn’t even make any sense,” Heartless Ben said, but she had already started walking away.

 

As luck would have it, there was a tavern right at the edge of the town. A faded yellow duck sign proclaimed it to be: “THE SNAKEHOLE.” There were only a handful of people inside, and they all turned to stare at Leslie and Mean Ben as they walked in. It wasn’t hostile, but it was still a little scary; Leslie had never been the center of that much attention in her life. 

The barkeep hopped around the counter and rushed to greet them. “Hello hello hello! Welcome to my humble tavern!”

A lady paused mid-drink and looked at him. “Excuse me?”

He snapped his fingers and pointed at her. “You got it. Welcome to the Snakehole, the finest drinking establishment in Pawnee, run by the beautiful, the wonderful, the incomparable Ms. Donna Meagle.” Donna nodded her approval of this new introduction. “I’m Tom, the bartender, though I prefer the title ‘drink master’. What can I get for you?”

“We’ll just have water, thanks.”

Leslie stomped on Heatless Ben’s foot. “I can order my own drinks, thank you very much.” She smiled at Tom. “What’s your best drink?”

“Don’t let him make you Snakejuice.”

Leslie turned her attention to the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. Though she had only been out in the world a day, she was fairly certain this woman was probably the most beautiful person in the entire world. 

The unnamed beauty squinted and added. “How do you move with that much hair?”

Leslie, who had never even realized you could misplace your voice, finally found hers again. “I…pick it up?” she said hesitantly.

“Why don’t you just cut it?” asked the young man by the fireplace. He strummed his lute and sang “Cut it! Cut it! Why don’t you just cut it? Like cheeeeeeese!”

“I can’t!” Leslie clutched her hair protectively. “I-I just can’t.”

“Have you tried braiding it?” Her calm acceptance of this admittedly odd decision confirmed for Leslie that this was, indeed, the most beautiful woman in the universe. When Leslie shook her head, the woman gestured. “Andy. April.”

“I’m not your servant,” a young brunette snapped. The man sitting next to her frowned, and she sighed heavily. “ _Fine_.”

“I’m Ann, by the way,” the woman said as she gently took Leslie’s hair. She jumped, but admirably refrained from yelping, when Pascal waved at her from Leslie’s shoulder.

“Leslie, and this is my good friend Pascal,” Leslie said, and they shared a smile before Ann started directing April and Andy on how to braid the massive amounts of hair.

“I’m Ben,” Heartless Ben said, but nobody cared. He slunk to the far corner of the bar and sat, scowling like the heartless meanie-poo he was.

“So what brings you to town, Goldilocks?” Tom asked.

“My name is Leslie.”

“And a lovely name it is,” he said. “Is your man here looking for work?”

“HE’S NOT MY MAN!” Leslie was quick to correct, feeling petty satisfaction that she had drowned out Heartless Ben’s own exclamation.

“That so?” Tom leered. “Are you in the market? ‘Cause - OUCH!”

Ann smiled sweetly, like she hadn’t just kicked him in the shin. “Just ignore him,” she told Leslie. “That’s what we all do. So, you two just passing through?”

“We’re going to see the Park of the Lost Princess!” Leslie said excitedly. “Well, I am. Have you ever been?”

“I LOVE THAT PARK!” Andy shouted, accidentally yanking her braid in his excitement.

“REALLY?!” Leslie squealed. “Could you take me?”

Andy’s excitement abruptly withered. “I…uh… don’t think that would be a good idea. I’m kinda low on the cash…o.”

“Casho?” Leslie frowned.

“You know. Cashola. Ice. Coinage.”

“He means he’s broke,” April said. “No money.”

Oh dear. This could be a problem. “I didn’t think you needed money to get to the park.” She knew what money was, of course, but she didn’t have any, or any actual idea how to get it.

“The park itself is free,” Ann said. “But you still need money to travel.”

“I don’t have any money,” Leslie said.

“Nothing at all?”

“Not a coinage.”

“How did you get here?”

“We walked. And hitched a ride with a farmer.”

“How were you gonna pay for your food?” Donna asked.

“You have to pay for food?”

“This is a business, Blondie,” the bar’s owner said. “And my carriage doesn’t pay for its own upkeep.”

“Can you sing?” Andy offered. “That’s what I do!”

“How does singing pay for food?” Leslie asked.

“Not well,” Ann said. “Look, don’t worry about it. I’ll cover your dinner tonight, and we can figure out how to get you some money for the rest of your trip.”

She jumped as Leslie whirled around and grabbed her hands. “You are an angel sent to earth,” Leslie said earnestly.

“Aww, thank you,” Ann said.

“She just means you’re a moralizing pretentious bitch,” April grumbled. Ann’s smile stiffened, but she ignored the younger woman and so Leslie decided to ignore her too.

After another few minutes, they finished the braid. It was thick, stiff, and heavier than she was used to now that she didn’t have her arms helping support its weight, but it felt so liberating to be able to move without picking it up! She ran excitedly in and out of the front door, marveling at her new ability to actually close it behind her.

“Ann, you are the most wonderful, amazing, fantastical piece of divinity ever to grace the universe,” she told the other woman earnestly.

“Geez, what are you going to say after I buy you dinner?” Ann asked, grinning awkwardly.

 

 

In another pub in a town not far away, Marlene quickly pulled a hood over her head as one of the Queen’s Guard, proclaiming that this was _literally_ the most charming tavern he had ever been in his entire life. She listened closely as he prattled with the barkeep about the fugitive he was searching for, a young man wanted for some dastardly crime.

Though he was not looking for Leslie, Marlene felt uneasy. What if he stumbled across the tower while looking for his fugitive? As one of the Queen’s men, he would surely recognize the stolen princess.

She set a few coins on the table and slipped out of the tavern. She would have to come up with some excuse for Leslie, but until the Queen’s Guard had left, she couldn’t afford to leave the tower.


End file.
